


"You See Him Too, Right?"

by Anarchist_Puppet_on_Strings (StarlightXNightmare)



Series: Let Me Help Pick Up the Pieces [9]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Demons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 05:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightXNightmare/pseuds/Anarchist_Puppet_on_Strings
Summary: After his kids ask him to check for monsters under their bed, Chase begins to notice weird things.





	"You See Him Too, Right?"

**Author's Note:**

> Wow… two in a day huh…

Chase thought Stacy had been half kidding when she had warned him that the kids had been more skittish than usual. They’re abnormally quiet and their eyes are often drawn to the opposite sides of the room. It’s only when bedtime comes when he realizes the extent of the problem.

Trey’s the one who asks.

“Daddy, can you check under our bed for monsters?”

“Kiddo, this is my room. I sleep here every night.” He shoots him an amused glance. “I can guarantee there’s no monsters here.”

“He follows us,” Sam squeaks out.

That earns a raised eyebrow.

_“He?”_

Trey shrugs self consciously, picking at the threads of a cheap blanket. “We dun know his name.”

He pauses. It’s odd Trey is telling him this. Trey is ten now. He’s surprisingly mature and clever for his age. He seemed a bit old for the whole “monster under the bed” thing.

“Well, I’ll check anyways if that makes you happy.”

He could feel the two’s eyes on him as he knelt down and looked under the bed. As he expected, there was nothing there.

Chase gave a reassuring thumbs up from below. “Nothing down here, kiddos!”

“Can you check the closet too?”

The closet yielded the same result as underneath the bed. Both of his kids looked more at ease. Sam had latched onto Trey already, using him in lieu of a teddy bear. He had tried to push her away but eventually gave in and allowed it, appearing tired and disgruntled.

After the two had gotten their bedtime forehead kiss and the light had been flipped off was when Chase was able to relax on the couch with tv turned down low as background noise.

At one point, something out of the corner of his eye shifted in the darkness. He couldn’t make out an exact shape but it moved quickly and silently. When he turned and looked out where the thing had been, there nothing but a small, dark kitchen.

It’s nothing. He’s tired and the dark plays tricks on the eyes.

He couldn’t help the prickling unease that brought all his hairs on end from washing over him though.

* * *

Call Chase paranoid but he’s been on edge the past few days after his kids left to return to their mother’s house. There’s nobody else in his apartment but the feeling of somebody’s eyes on him wouldn’t go away. It’s infuriating!

It left sometimes—disappearing for anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours—but it always came back. It’s hard to sleep under the impression you’re being watched. He’d get drunk and ignore it but he’s wary of getting drunk in case there actually was someone. But hey, that’s the anxiety talking.

So instead of turning this into some big kinda thing, he talked to thin air. His hopes to dispel the tense atmosphere worked—kinda. He had to admit it’s much funnier dealing with a problem when he didn’t take it seriously.

It’s easier talking and joking with an unseen presence than going to therapy and going on meds.

As much as he’s convinced the anxiety is amping up his paranoia, he had an odd feeling someone else was hearing all the bullshit he talked about to himself.

* * *

It’s been one of those weeks. The weeks where everything blurs together and his brain is mushy. Chase sleeps way too often because he’s constantly tired no matter how much tea or coffee he drinks and how much sleep he gets. It’s been the kind of week where he sleeps so much he forgets to eat and drink until he’s forced to do it when it becomes unbearable. The one where he’s holed up inside his house because he’d been calling in sick for the past few days. The kind where he isn’t sure he’d been sleeping or just zoning out.

Basically, he wanted to die.

Chase squinted, eyebrows knit together in confusion as he struggled to remember whether he left the tv on or not. It’s on a channel he didn’t even have, loud static blaring from the speakers. It’s entirely plausible he’d done it while intoxicated or just couldn’t remember it. He shrugged and muted it before switching it off.

* * *

When the power cut out with a dying hum, Chase couldn’t help but groan.

This is stupid. It’s so stupid and it’s annoying. He hates it.

His power has been going out sporadically for the past week and apparently it’s just his apartment. He’s been paying his rent, so his landlord concluded there must be something wrong with the wiring, and they’re sending over an electrician in a few days.

He blinked when the power flickered back to life.

Huh… that’s faster than usual. Oh well.

* * *

The electrician found nothing wrong but the power had gone out while she was over. She’s baffled.

* * *

He may not have the greatest memory (in fact, his is really  _shitty_ ) but he’s certain he’s turning off lights. The whole point of turning off lights is to save power, but either he’s sleepwalking or this is a part of the shitty power situation!

Every night it’s the same. He flicks off all the lights and heads to bed. In the morning… or whenever he wakes up really, a light—or all of them—are turned on.

It’s confusing. He’s even started writing down that he turns them off before crashing. At this point, he’s given up turning the lights off before going to bed.

Now they’re turning themselves off.

* * *

When he hears the whistle, he nearly drops his glass of water. He spun around, met with nothing but the darkness around him. It had been brief and sharp with no tune or melody at all.

 _“What the fuck?”_  He breathed to himself.

Chase flips on the lights and walks around the kitchen, trying to find the source of the noise.

He scratched his head with a frown.

Trying to recreate the whistle had no success either. He simply couldn’t match the lack of tune it had. That rules out the possibility of him whistling without realizing it.

Besides… it came from a few feet behind him.

* * *

He’d been staring at his water stained ceiling for over two consecutive hours when one of the floorboards creaks out in the hall. Like the kind of creak when he walks down the hall. He stiffens up and his eyes flash over to the closed door. A shadow passes by the crack under his door.

He waits another minute or two, fully expecting whoever was waiting outside to barge in and kill him already. But nothing happened.

* * *

He’s not ashamed to say he nearly screamed when something brushed against the back of his neck. It’s featherlight and the touch zapped him like static electricity. Of course, when he whirled around, eyes wild, there’s nothing.

It’s totally possible he could be hallucinating or something. His paranoia has been through the roof with every little thing that happens. But it just felt too… real. Like somebody had actually been there and reached out and brushed their fingers against his neck.

Chase can’t help but wonder if he’s going insane.

* * *

Sometimes when he’s teetering on the edge of consciousness and falling asleep, he hears things. Things like low hissing and heavy, wet breathing. Something tapping in an inane rhythm against the hardwood flooring as weight shifts outside in the hall. Scratching—like his ex’s cat used to do when he got bored but louder.

And… and a weird voice? A distorted one warped beyond recognition that jumps high and low. He’s never picked up on any words—it’s all just nearly inaudible whispers that barely reach his ears.

He isn’t sure why his brain chooses to latch onto these bits of information. Your brain makes up weird things when it isn’t fully working properly.

Maybe it’s because he’s staring at deep gouges in the floor out in the hallway. It looks like some angry cat from hell got bored and destroyed his floor in a fit of rage.

* * *

Chase gets closure when his kids come back to visit a month after their first visit.

Quiet noises from his room caught his attention and his parental instinct kicked in. He needed to make sure his kids were fast asleep and undisturbed. Cracking the door open to allow the hall light to spill in and then peering in, he’s met with a ghastly sight.

Trey and Samantha are both sitting up, staring at the same spot as their father.

Something that nearly reached the low ceiling of the apartment while hunched over with big teeth, lots of glowing neon eyes, and a second mouth on its neck.

Trey turns to him with wide eyes and whispers, “You see him too, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> I took three naps today and my eyes still burn what is this bull


End file.
